Where Every Day Is National Dog Day

Story Sent in by Bill:

When I was out with Julie, who I had met online, she would not shut up about her dog:

"I have the smartest little mutt in the world! He's so smart! First of all, he knows what everything is in the house! If I ask him, 'Jonesy, where's the fridge?' he knows where it is! If I ask him, 'Jonesy, where's the vase?' he'll look right at it! If I ask him, 'Jonesy, where's the coffee?' he looks at the coffee canister on the counter! And you wanna know what's weird? I never taught him where any of that was! He taught himself! Isn't that amazing? Isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it amazing?"

"That's amazing," I said, maybe trying a little too hard to be dismissive. I'm a cat person, and while I don't mind people who have dogs, I mind people who have dogs who won't take a breath between words while telling me how their dog is just the greatest, smartest, smelliest little rug with teeth.

But it didn't stop there. Julie had to show me photos of Jonesy on her phone. Jonesy was an ugly dog. Some mutts are cute, but Jonesy looked like an Ewok had mated with a sack of razor blades. And she didn't just have a Jonesy album. She had an album of "Jonesy at the beach," and "Jonesy at the pet store," and "Jonesy at another beach," and "Jonesy in the bathroom," and "Jonesy in mom's bathroom," and "Jonesy on his bed."

In that last album, Jonesy seemed to have himself a really nice bed. It looked like a queen size mattress but it had been turned into a sort of dog-nest-shrine-thing complete with toys, treats, torn bedding, and all kinds of stains that I'm sure would intrigue a stainologist.

"Jonesy has his own bed?" I remarked.

Julie laughed. "Technically it's my bed, but he took it over. But he lets me sleep on the living room couch."

I asked for clarification, "You don't sleep in your own bed?"

She replied, "Technically I no longer own a bed. Not since Jonesy commandeered it."

Good for her and good for Jonesy. No second date.